


The House Ogvaldr

by laura_waterhouse



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laura_waterhouse/pseuds/laura_waterhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is annoyed by stories associated with this house of faded glory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House Ogvaldr

**Author's Note:**

> I stole the plot and structure of Rabindranath Tagore’s “The Babus of Nayanjore” and sprinkled some twisted details from the Norse Myths and Marvel.

It was said that the House of Ogvald was so fierce that the fires of Musphelheim hid and the icy winds of Jötunheim stood still when the Ogvaldrsons made their rounds throughout the realms. The youngest brother, Tyr, bound the berserker Fenrir which fangs shattered when it tried to bite into the warrior’s right arm. The family was strong and fertile with many sons, and the brothers were the most favored heroes of Bor.  
That was before the plague. The plague came and the House that would not succumb in battle, one morning, found its sons charcoal black and turned to dust at the slightest breeze. All except Tyr.  
Legend has it that right before Black Death strode into Adger, the waves rose and took Tyr from the coast. He was hidden deep into the ocean by one of the daughters of Aegir who loved him. Tyr never affirmed that he received protection from the Frothing Wave, for he is a warrior and could he not slice the face of Black Death himself? But he did claim that the son who sucked at his thumb when he was suddenly found in the Royal Palace after years of being lost, indeed, was the progeny of Old Ocean.  
Tyr had sworn faithfulness to the mysterious mother of his child and had never wed. When Odin Allfather conquered Jötunheim, Tyr’s son lived up to his father’s legacy and was the greatest champion of that war but the young man’s blood froze on the land of the Jötnar and Tyr was left with only a granddaughter.  
Tyr, though a drivel at state affairs, holds an honorary seat in my court. As much as Tyr’s family flourished in the ferocious ways of my patriarchs, he must be very much thwarted by the mark of peace in my reign. I have often fancied that Tyr looked down on me because of this. When he stands audience at the Althing, I spy a longing in his eyes for the warrior ways of my grandfather and father, and a big disdain for the politicking I employ. He would be filled with joy if Thor, who has left Asgard to be with his Midgardian lover, took to the throne and ruled in an obnoxious but straightforward and honest way. I imagine him calling me a liar and snake for the shifty covenants I have brokered with the other realms. But I have decided that I prefer an Asgard with a small tarnish on its reputation of sincerity than an Asgard full of orphans and widows.  
I should have recognized that I am the only one disturbed by Old Tyr. In truth, the whole court was very fond of the living legend of Asgard. He is a beloved hero who is now a charming old man, who imagines himself to be still with the strength of his prime even as he cannot stand without aid anymore. At banquets, Tyr would tell the epic battles of ten millennia past and would recount the heroics of his brothers. He believes it is his sacred duty to spread the saga of the mighty House of Ogvald. He points to the virtue of war in separating the men from boys, the true heroes from the cowards and bringing out the purest valour from the spirit of the Realm. The younglings, who had yet to taste blood from a proper war during my reign, openly admire Tyr even while finding his stories to be too impossible. The more seasoned warriors respect him and, although they know of the pains and spoils of war to be too enthused, feign amusement for his pleasure. He is very learned in the old customs and etiquettes and all the nobilities seek his approval for various ceremonies. Having not much to do but chatter, he knew everyone by their name and the name of their children.  
Tyr spends most of his days in the practice yard, watching the training of warriors. I believe he also holds a position there albeit he has no real responsibility. He is often heard to say that he would like to challenge a squire for a fight, if only his aid Skirnir would finally find his armor. He would not want to hurt a new-fangle in a no armor duel. Everyone knew that his family servants have hidden his decorated armor to keep him from dueling and injuries, for everyone saw his fragile health. Occasionally, a blacksmith would be present for a fitting and Tyr would always try to commission him. The blacksmith would agree, but no one took the contract seriously in fear of Tyr’s granddaughter.  
```````0```````  
When I think of it, there is a much deeper reason for my dislike of Tyr Wolfbounder. I am currently the Regent of Asgard while the Allfather resides in his Sleep. Although I did have a record of treason and some scuffle in Midgard in my youth, I have straightened my ways and am now widely regarded as a competent ruler of the Realm Eternal. All throughout the Nine Realms, many families seek my favor and have displayed their most excellent daughters to be my consort. I believe that the families who have long wanted to be associated to the Royal Line of Asgard sighed in relief when I took over as they would not have to fear the welfare of their daughters anymore, for I am more sophisticated and well-mannered than Thor could ever be. I have taken a liking at some of these ladies, but have not found anyone that really deserved my full attention and the status I carry. I refuse to marry beneath my measure even if I sometimes construe that the woman I look for is yet to be born.  
Now I have mentioned that Tyr has a granddaughter. True to the family blood, Sif had become a shieldmaiden of Asgard. I know her for she is within my brother’s closest circle, and like the other members of their group, is quick to temper and brute. Far from the elegance and savoir-faire of my mother, Frigga, and lacking the etiquette of even a common lady, Sif makes for a poor courtesan. Her high status at court is present, not because of her womanly virtues, but because of her top position in the armies of Asgard. These qualities may have made her an eccentric prize in her youth, but now, these only ensconced worry in the hearts of men and she had remained unmarried. She is unworthy of myself and would make a terrible wife and I would want her far from the Queen’s throne. Still, I am certain that Tyr is shaded from the granddaughter’s shortcomings and that it is inevitable that he would invite my consideration. That is where my exasperation stems from, that he had not done yet so.  
In several banquets, I have heard of his disapproval of the way marriages had been used to further status and agenda and how he longed for the romantic ways of old. His recollection of his love for Uðr outrivals his fantastic battle stories. Many millennia of not seeing her and he still remembers her as if he had gone to bed beside her just the night before. He claimed that instead of bringing favor, their love had brought struggle for the Lord of the Ocean did not approve of him. But they have proven themselves worthy of each other. His whimsy makes him wish of a similar struggle for his granddaughter. He imagines a strong warrior beating Sif in battle to prove his worth to be a fitting husband. In that case, he would have the bloody-mouthed hound Garm as an in law for it is difficult to find a man to match Sif in a hand to hand combat.  
I took direct offense from his remarks for it runs contrary to the way I search for a bride. But I seethed in silence for there is no way I would give up my hard earned standing just to punish a foolish old man.  
Now, I am called the Mischief Maker for a reason, and one day, the right ingredients for a perfect foolery presented itself with the visitation of an old comrade. Lorelei found herself a Vanir husband and now resides in Vanaheim, a realm strong in the practice of magic. To solicit jealousy from all her magical learnings, she revealed to me that she had snooped a hidden ancient text illustrating the forms of the Ancient Powers. Gears started clicking in my mind and I inquired about the Maidens of the Waves. No one I knew who is alive had seen them except perhaps my Father, Tyr and Heimdall. I had behaved too long, and the need to carry out an amusing trick is exploding inside of me.  
Those who talk to Tyr are filled with awe and the desire to please the hero. It is not uncommon that some stories are manufactured to sweeten the man’s ears. A usual report is the high esteem still conferred to the House Ogvaldr, with some peoples of the realms even bowing to the brothers in worship. “I will visit that place and honor them with my presence,” Tyr would reply, his smile manic with pride. He never did for he was too fragile to leave Asgard.  
Another favorite tale comes from the Naturalists sent to monitor the uninhabited Adger where Black Death is still assumed to roam. These examiners are consistent with their tales of the sweet song of the sea heard at the coastlines. “Ah, she calls to me, but I cannot come to her yet.” Tyr would say with a toothy grin.  
Days after Lorelei’s revelation, I approached Tyr after a session of the Althing. I told him that I had been to Heimdall’s post and that the guard told me that one of his mothers could visit for Mani is strongest in several thousand years tonight. I detailed the meeting that Heimdall had arranged for him. Anyone who would have heard this conversation and knew of my reputation would immediately discern what I was up to, even Tyr. But the stories brought back by Naturalists and his own longing blinded him. He began to become anxious for time is too short to prepare for a proper reception and his armors are still missing. I comforted him by telling him that his presence is all that is needed and that he better wear his ceremonial robes for it is more becoming for him. He then expressed regret that Sif is away and cannot be home to meet her grandmother. I had specifically timed the joke tonight for I knew Sif would spoil my plans. I encouraged him to concentrate on the reunion instead, to honor Uðr who would be employing considerable magic to see him tonight.  
So near midnight, I used special shadows to slip Lorelie into Tyr’s compound. Beside the pool reflecting Mani, Tyr sat with Skirnir. Lorelei invisibly slipped into the pool and fashioned her image similar to what she had seen in the ancient book when she got to the bottom of the water. The illustrations were not very clear so we decided to compensate by employing light that would make her look blurry. Tyr’s eyes were bright as he gazed at his former lover again. Now Lorelei did not know what Uðr sounded like, so no conversation occurred and the visit was limited to hands reaching out but not touching and making faces at the water. Tyr looked comical and about ready to cry, while Skirnir endeavored to keep Tyr from falling into the water. I suspect that Lorelei could not contain her laughter any longer, which is why she suddenly shot up from the pool towards the sky in a ray of light. She was probably on her way back to the palace.  
I, on the other hand, could not concentrate on finding the special shadows I had used so I was left running back to the house and found myself in an inner training room where I could let my laughter out.  
I was nearly in tears, when suddenly I felt cold metal on my neck. The Lady Sif had been hurried back apparently. We both knew she could not slice my neck in a responsible way that would be acceptable to Asgard, so she resorted to punching and kicking me instead. The fortification against seidr in the house was strong and I could not slip out without concentration, so I had to endure. I resigned to wait for her to get tired. Her assaults lasted a while, and after several minutes of calmness, I thought that Sif had emptied her anger and was now allowing me to leave so I gathered myself up to stand from the ground. I saw that Sif had not left the room and was sitting on the ground with her head hidden on her arms on top of her bent knees.  
“Why did you do that? What did my grandfather ever do to you?”  
Her voice broke, but I thought, only in anger, until she lifted her head to look at me. Even with only the light of a lamp, there is no mistaking that tears were running down her cheeks. I had never seen her cry, even when I’ve shorn her hair the night before she would be introduced as a lady in the court. Her mother refused to present her the next day, a small victory for me. But I was left with greater regret as she stayed in the training yard more because she had a fight with the courtesans who made fun of her baldness.  
My laughter was gone and so was the pain in my flesh. It was suddenly very easy for me to pluck my shadow exit. It had a troubled dawn and I undertook to avoid Lorelei who would be basking at our folly.  
At the court next day, Tyr had gathered an audience to narrate the call he received from his mistress. The interview was epic and heavily embellished. Sif was foremost among the listeners, asking details from her grandfather over and over again.  
“Tell it to us again Grandpa, how beautiful and radiant Aegir’s daughter is? What words of love did she whisper again to you?” She had not looked more vulnerable and ridiculous in public, not in a long time.  
I was transported back to the days of our youth when a tiny Sif, still with her stuffed dolls and ribbons, would continue to sit beside me after Thor and Fandral had left in disappointment. I was the only one who had mastered reading in our group, and they often looked to me to tell them dragon stories from the books that did not have pictures. But I would trick them to listening to magical spells instead and Thor would stomp away in frustration. Sif would stay and begin her train of never ending questions to wipe the sad look from my face because nobody understood me. She did not understand either, but I would forget my sadness and be amused because of the foolishness of her inquiries. I thought that little girl was gone when she took up her shield and glaive, but I see her sitting there on the center of the hall, at the feet of her grandfather.  
Now, because of my abilities to manipulate space and dimension, I had forgone the old ceremonial announcements used by the rulers of Asgard. I slipped in and out of places and conversed with persons I needed to without a fuss. But that afternoon, I brought all my guards and gave a full ceremony as a visiting head of the realm when I came to Tyr’s home. I am sure that he thought that the affirmation of his affair with one of the Ancients was the source of my new found respect. After the pleasantries, I went and surprised him with my proposal. I said, “… and although it is hard to make myself worthy enough to be connected to your illustrious family, I am hoping you can aid me in advice or training on how to best the Lady Sif in a duel so I could win her heart, etc, etc.”  
Tyr reached for my hand and raised my head which was bowed. “I am old and weak now, and I often worry about Sif. Do not think of yourself as unworthy young man, your sovereignty puts Asgard in peace and joy. My House had been nearly empty of members for a long time and would be honored to welcome a wise and serene son.”  
That was the first and last time Tyr acknowledged his frailty and in a brief moment, forgot the invulnerability of the House of Ogvald.


End file.
